A Smile for Sophie
by Lady Ami-chan
Summary: Sequel to 'Another Chance'! This one was done over the course of three days. Suboshi's turn to fall in love!


Disclaimer I don't own Suboshi or Amiboshi. But I do own Jessie, Julian, and Jess Wilding, and Sophie Tarek. You're welcome to use the names! (I'll take it as a compliment!)  
  
Note Yes, I know Alex and Amiboshi are together. Yes, I know Jessie and Amiboshi are at the end. But this is the original Amiboshi. The one from Kutou. Yup, that's possible. Because I said so!!  
  
A Smile for Sophie  
  
  
  
The pale spring stars were fathomless, calmly twinkling down at Shunkaku Wilding, who stood upon the balcony of the hotel. His work had called him here, in the sultry night life of the street scene of New Orleans. The city, with its many neon lights, came to life when the sun went down the cup of the Southern summer skies. The people here lived for fun; the many bars and clubs heralded a thriving four blocks, known well as the Vieux Carre throughout the country. He'd been living off his savings in the comfortably-furnished Motel 6 for two months. His little business thrived.  
  
But on a more personal note, he was lonely. His brother was thousands of miles away, his brother and his sister-in-law and his nephew, Julian, not to mention his soon-to-be niece. If she was anything like Alex, she would be a raving beauty.  
  
Yes, Suboshi was lonely... he would do well to remember his brother and his steady teaching job, selling his paintings for such a long time, and he would do well to find his forte. For one thing, it was not sending other people out into the world where he longed to be. He wanted to find his niche.  
  
For now, though, the surging night-life of New Orleans would do. Catlike and annoyed with himself, he stalked through the hotel room, the brushing of his leather loafers against the institutional carpeting driving him further away from his mind -- or what was left of it.  
  
He threw himself against the railing. "Calm. The hell. Down," he mumbled through gritted teeth, taking his heart firmly in hand as he stared down at the floodlit, fluorescent-blue motel pool. The chlorine scent was strong, pungent, and it drifted up to him. He had never been the poetic type. At that, Suboshi was at the opposite end from his brother, who lived his art, and who had a fragile wife and gentle child whom he himself could learn much from.  
  
What could he do? The giggles of the children below, splashing in the shallow end of the pool with their mother, made him send a furious violet- blue glare downstairs, uselessly. Something about breathing shallowly the humid air irritated him.  
  
He started when the phone rang from inside the room. He made a dash for it, and picked it up on the second ring.  
  
His twin's voice cascaded soothingly through the receiver, and Suboshi cradled it against his shoulder, smiling in relief. Amiboshi was his grounding force, that entity that kept him from falling into the cauldron of chaos he kept locked within. "Hey, little brother." He could hear the smile in Amiboshi's warm voice.  
  
"Hey, yourself. I'm going crazy down here." Affection tinged his own tone, and he sat down on the sterile bed, leaning back against the oak headboard with a frustrated sigh. "What I wouldn't give to be home!" The dresser was littered with phone cards, used and unused, among the take-out Chinese cartons and the keys to his Jeep, looking rather like white plastic leaves in autumn.  
  
"Then come home," Koutoku responded gently. Shunkaku nearly dropped the phone. His brother was right, he could always come home. It wasn't his own trip he was overseeing, it was an excursion belonging to someone else. He didn't have to be here. "You're free as a bird. Go to some exotic island, and crisp yourself. Go to some jungle paradise. You need to relax."  
  
"Yes, of course, but I don't have the money," he blustered, making up excuses for his own state of mind.  
  
"I do. Now book the next exit out of there! You can pass as me. We did it all the time when we were younger." Koutoku was worried. His brother wasn't sounding like himself, and in his mind's eye he saw a saddened Shunkaku with premature lines beginning around his violet-blue eyes.  
  
"What's wrong, love?" Alex's voice sounded in Amiboshi's ears, relaxing him slightly. His wife was heavy with child, and she was tired. It was midnight in the small East Coast town, and he was exhausted. The warm study had been decorated as his own, splendidly so, with heavy oaken furniture and desk, and a roaring fire in the lovely veined marble hearth. The weather outside was that of early spring, indecisive and chill, with frost lingering in the wings, kept at bay by the whispering breezes. His musings were broken by the gentle kneading of her hands at his shoulders. "It's Suboshi, isn't it?"  
  
"Yes. This job is tearing him apart. I don't know what it's all about, though," he said as he cupped the receiver. "He's not a businessman."  
  
"I heard that," Suboshi said with a small sigh. "You're right. I think I'll take you up on that offer." A new vitality sparked in his voice, renewing it, restoring it. "I'll call you when I'm en route. Take care, brother! Give my regards to your family." He placed the phone back on the hook, grinning recklessly. It would feel good to take an unplanned trip.  
  
He seemed to blur out of the real world until the moment he stepped onto the cruise ship, gazing down into the clear blue waters. The Spring Regal, indeed! The black-and-white ship was of sweeping, phenomenal proportions, and Shunkaku felt pleasantly dwarfed standing on the smooth wooden deck, feeling the humid air flutter delicately about him and through his hair. The scent of salt was strong here, and the mingled scents of perfumes from the boarding ladies made his head spin. Some were exotic and slow and musky, others briskly feminine and flowery, some he couldn't distinguish. But always the perfume fit the lady. Some were tiny, slender and dark, reminding him of lithe black cats, others pale and fragile, but the one that caught his eye was neither.  
  
She was tall. That was Suboshi's first impression, then he focused on her with both eyes, furrowing his brows in curiosity so that a tiny crease appeared between them. Everything about this tall, gentle-looking woman whispered delicacy. Her hair was the color of cinnamon and sweet cream, a soft, light red-gold, that fell like a drape about her, whipped in the capricious wind. Her slender body was outfitted in a sun dress of brilliant crimsons and scarlets, mingled with pinks and oranges like a sunset, conforming to every ounce of her feminine curves, revealing no evidence of the tight, fit muscles he suddenly believed to be hidden beneath the willowy, soft form. She was lightly tanned, although she remained rather fair, her skin a creamy wheat-color. A faint spattering of freckles crossed a nose that was slim all down its length and straight, patrician though not haughty. Her lips were full, and stained as with honey, glassily smooth. Suboshi caught himself staring only when her eyes flicked his way and caught on him.  
  
Then he promptly fell into them, a world of brilliant champagne-gold, framed by long lashes and sparkling faintly. They were the kind of eyes his brother loved to paint, deep eyes that betrayed her every emotion, that celebrated victory and mourned loss clearly. They put her world on display for any happening passerby.  
  
Shaking himself out of his reverie, he left the upper deck. The sounds of whispered secrets and the feeling that someone gazed at his back made him look behind him uneasily, then speed his step until the crescendo much matched the slapping of the waves against the hull.  
  
"All aboard!" The traditional phrase was called, and a moment later Suboshi felt a slight jerk, then a smooth slipping as the keel cleared the silt of the dock. From then it was easy sailing, which Suboshi found quite odd until he regained his balance and could move simply by remembering he was at sea.  
  
His stride was long and graceful, and as the sun illuminated the clear water, he wondered at the tension that had fled at the least bidding, wondering that being away from his employment could relax him so completely. He would take his brother's advice.  
  
After changing into a pair of smooth, handsome emerald-colored trousers, he settled into a deck chair in full sun, closing his eyes as the heat soaked into him like liquid into cloth, healing exhausted, stiff muscles from the inside out, laying the radiance of early spring onto him like a soothing balm. It reflected off the water, making everything the blindingly bright white of a sunrise in a snowstorm.  
  
"Excuse me, sir," came the voice nearly an hour later, waking him into a half-grog. "You've been lying here for ages, and you're crisped." Suboshi made a hasty movement, then exclaimed in pain as it creased red, burnt skin.  
  
"Oh. Thank you." Try as he might, he couldn't devise a way to sit up without moving, so he heaved himself forward nonplussedly, hissing a matter- of-fact curse. His lips were cracked and sore, and his shoulders and cheeks were burned blood-red, freckles beginning to gather over his forearms. It was that woman, from before, who had roused him, and now she was running her hand over the one weeping blister on his shoulder.  
  
"You're quite welcome. If you'll come below deck, I will tend that for you. I've some cold aloe , and you'll be hurting any moment now," she invited, taking her delicate hand away from the burn. Shunkaku forced himself to stand, despite the surging pain that made his mind compete.  
  
"All right, I accept," he said softly, absently pressing one hand against the burn. As he had expected, it sizzled, and the setting sun wasn't helping matters. He allowed himself to be led down a flight of stairs, where twinkling little lanterns lit the corridor, shimmering softly like stars. Suboshi was rather discomposed.  
  
"Hold still, sir!" Her voice had a very soft accent, one that was gentle but unidentifiable as any Shunkaku had ever heard. It was not British, with strange slurs, nor Russian with sharp consonants, neither was it American. She gently dabbed stinging antiseptic onto the blister as he suppressed a howl of pain, then she laid a soft dressing over it, taping it down with medical tape. "It will heal more quickly this way. Don't worry, the antiseptic will stop in a moment, it's very strong." She then gently smoothed a rich greenish cream over his bare shoulders, seeming not in the least embarrassed.  
  
"I have to thank you, miss," Suboshi murmured, watching her graceful movements through soft eyes the color of iolite. "What is your name, if I may ask? You have me quite intrigued." A lock of his hair slid into his eyes, only to be brushed away irritably, but not before he noticed that it was more blonde than it had been before in places.  
  
"Oh, that's right!" She chuckled merrily, setting those champagne- colored eyes into a brilliant sunset of gold and silver, like a chase of fairies moving through a dappled forest. "I'm Sophie Tarek. I'm here on vacation." There was the accent again, Shunkaku thought, and the last name identified it: Tarek. It was Austrian, exotic in a baroque sort of way, cultured and refined. Her movements were measured, feline, graceful. "And you are, sir?" she prompted gently, giving that impish shade of a chuckle once more.  
  
"Ah -- oh, yes. Shunkaku Wilding, also here on vacation. I'm a travel specialist," he mumbled wearily as her gentle hands paused to knead a muscle over his left shoulder-blade. A suspicion confirmed his premonition -- she wasn't trying to attract him; she only wanted to be helpful.  
  
"Spectacular," Sophie purred, a small smile slipping over her full, soft lips. Shunkaku was reminded irresistibly of a lady cat, shy but proud and slim of build and demeanor. "You're perfect for one of my paintings, sir."  
  
"Paintings?" was all Suboshi could parrot, nonplussed. Come to think of it, the name Tarek did sound very familiar from his stay in New Orleans. "What sort of paintings?" he asked after he had finally gotten his tongue to work tolerably well.  
  
"Portrait," Sophie answered, "and classical. Sometimes I do charcoal, or watercolors, but usually I work in pastels or acrylics, because they're easy. Would you be interested in posing?"  
  
It was the same employment as his brother, he realized with a start. "I suppose so," he said warily, thoroughly aware that the scorching sensation of his every pore containing a small fire was dimmed and less painful as she rubbed yet another fingertip of the ointment into it.  
  
Sophie gazed at him a moment, speculatingly, until he felt rather like a prized specimen under glass, until she nodded approvingly. "Just lay back and be comfortable," she advised, scrambling for her sketchbook and a fresh stick of charcoal.  
  
He obeyed, draping himself over the sumptuous couch with a sigh. Suboshi's sinuous body fell into a lackadaisically graceful, subconsciously sensual pose, one arm held curved around his slim waist, the other falling against his brow. "Exactly like that!" Sophie whispered excitedly, kneeling and eyeing him carefully as she drew the black substance over the paper, capturing the slender lines of him, the artful planes of his face, half in shadow, the half-mast position of his thick, luxuriant lashes. That smile, though, took her a moment to capture perfectly. It was a wild, sensuous quirk of full lips, that promised unbearable mischief when paired with those laughing blue-violet eyes and that slender body.  
  
Sophie blushed, eternal moments later as she put the final stroke of charcoal into the portrait, defining the undoubtedly rock-hard muscle of his chest. Suboshi was awake and watching her guardedly. "Are you quite finished, Miss Tarek?" he queried with a small smile.  
  
"Yes, sir," she murmured. If she would put one more line onto the drawing, it would throw off the graceful symmetry of the handsome Suboshi. "Here, come see it."  
  
Suboshi eased his sunburned self up off of the wicker weave, wincing at the print it left in the painful skin. All thought of pain, however, was left behind when he gazed at the proud work of art that Sophie had woven so skillfully with her deft strokes of blackness. It had captured not only his slender body, but the very essence of him, the mood of him, the exact way he had been feeling. Suboshi could gaze at it and read his own thoughts. He had been feeling shy and awkward, wanting to please her; he could read it in the tension and shadow over parts of his expression, while other parts remained tentatively in the light. "It's brilliant, Sophie!"  
  
She looked up at him, startled into coloring brightly red. "Do you honestly think so, sir? It was just a hurried sketch, but you're a pleasure to draw. So still, it was almost like you weren't breathing! But your eyes, sir, they kept sparkling the whole time. I hope I captured it," she whispered fretfully, biting her full lower lip with worry until she stifled a cry of discomfort. "Oh, drat!" was all she could say as she seized her skirt and began worrying it between her slim hands.  
  
Shunkaku was amused, to say the least. This woman was intimidated by him, or was it that she was unused to being given compliments? He rather suspected both, but how could she be intimidated by him when he looked rather like a clown with this silly sunburn spanning his cheeks and nose, swathing his chest and shoulders? "You did very well. You're an adept artist, Sophie, and I'd be much obliged if you accompanied me for dinner this evening. I promise you I don't eat like an ogre." It was all he could do to keep his face sober and unsmiling, he wanted to show her he wasn't intimidating in the least, but couldn't help teasing a bit.  
  
A timid smile slipped over Sophie's lips. "All right," she allowed shyly, looking down as she watched herself worry the skirt.  
  
Suboshi was certain that if the woman didn't lift her red-gold head, he was going to burst into peals of laughter over the top of it any moment. "Look at me, Sophie," he said, his voice strained by the laughter fighting to be bellowed. "Silly woman, you act as though I will bite you. I assure you, I won't." When she looked up, his self-control was severely strained once more, only in another direction: toward desire.  
  
The color in her face was high and maidenly, the softest of pale roses, a gentle brushing of pink-colored dust over the wheat-gold shade she wore like a badge. Shunkaku moved with liquid grace to cup her chin in one hand. "Well, Sophie," he whispered lazily, "you intrigue me. You're a shy sort. I wonder if I can cure that?" Then, without asking permission, without saying a word, he captured her lips with the gentlest of kisses. His own brazenness shocked him, but it was pleasant.  
  
Only a moment passed before his mind was obliterated, as Sophie responded in kind, inviting him with a soft, feminine sound of pleasure, and he deepened the kiss, pulling her close protectively.  
  
It seemed an eternity he spent, lazily moving his lips over Sophie's feminine, full ones, which opened and blossomed like a flower to the sun, and even longer until they were forced to come up for air. A brash grin moved over his lips, and he grazed one hand over them as well, his eyes sparkling. "Oh, dear," he murmured, an impish look brightening his countenance. "Now I've convinced you that I am an ogre, haven't I? I may warn you, I am tempted to do it again, and again after that. Possibly until you slap me senseless." Suboshi was completely unrepentant, the devil's own amusement dancing in his shameless blue-violet eyes.  
  
"Oh, no, sir," Sophie breathed, a rather dreamy smile slipping over her rosy, thoroughly-kissed lips. "I fear I could very well enjoy that."  
  
Suboshi released the shy girl, smiling broadly. "I will see you at dinner, Sophie. Do try not to call me sir any longer. It's quite tiring, really, and besides, after our little..." he paused to laugh softly, "interlude, it seems not at all appropriate." Then he strode out the door, chuckling to himself in satisfaction.  
  
He had been pleased with it, and he was positive that Sophie had, as well. Suboshi strolled down the hall, feeling mightily pleased with himself as he rubbed his thumb over his lips, tucking the other hand into his pocket.  
  
The moment he got into his own berth, he found the phone ringing naggingly. "Yes, yes, I'm coming," Suboshi snapped, and leapt to rescue it. "Hello?" he gasped into the receiver with a chuckle as he fell onto the tiny bunk, entangled in the cord.  
  
"Hello there!" came the inordinately cheerful voice of his twin. "You haven't been in for the longest time. I tried to call you earlier. You weren't in, but I declined to give a message. Where are you? I only got this number by calling the agency for the cruise. They thought it was funny."  
  
Suboshi laughed expansively. "I was..." he paused to give a self- satisfied grin, "... busy." Amusement rang full and bright from his voice, and there was little left of the overworked, underappreciated businessman in his manner or expression.  
  
Koutoku's groan came, as he knew it would, and he heard the bemused tone to it. "What have you done, Shunkaku? I hope it's not something I wouldn't do. You'll regret it."  
  
He couldn't help but smile smugly, a twitch of his lips upwards in a half-grin of satisfaction. "Oh, you wouldn't have done it. But I don't regret it in the least. Strange, isn't it?"  
  
"That's the brother I remember," Amiboshi teased, smiling into the speaker. "I told you to take a vacation, and you listened, and you're feeling much better."  
  
Suboshi engaged himself in unwinding the cord from around him. It scraped unpleasantly against his sunburned body, and he was shocked by the realization that he'd been padding around a luxury cruise ship without the dignity of shoes or shirt. "I am, although I'll have to ask you to excuse me for now, brother. I must be getting ready for dinner."  
  
"All right," Amiboshi responded around his smile. "I warn you, Alex is due in eight days. I'm sure she'd like you to be there as well." He placed soft reproof in his tone. "Goodbye for now."  
  
"Goodbye," Suboshi said softly as he replaced the receiver on the hook. His sister-in-law would want him there, he was sure. But if luck was on his side, he would be bearing a visitor of his own.  
  
The moon was high and full, a droplet of mercury painted against a bejeweled heaven, and Suboshi was enduring the scratching of a white dress shirt against his shoulders. Damned if it didn't feel like someone was sandpapering him all over! The smile on his lips refused to be banished, though, as he waited, leaning against the railing.  
  
In a rather retrospective mood, he wondered wryly whether she'd even show. He had acted rather suddenly, on his instincts, surprising even himself with his passion. Normally Shunkaku didn't give a whit who he impressed or degraded, but now he felt vulnerable, as though one slip of a misplaced foot could drop him into despair. God forbid that he should start to love this woman, after only a day?  
  
He found himself remembering a love affair, very faintly of course, that had lasted for the longest time, but had been hopeless. That had been many, many years ago, long before his time, and yet he still remembered the heartbreak. But it wasn't on this timeline; it was on some alternate destiny that had been strangely averted.  
  
"Excuse me," came Sophie's soft voice, interrupting his reverie. She was welcome to intrude, as far as Suboshi was concerned, because he hadn't liked the turn his thoughts had gone down. When he looked up, he was automatically put to shame by the beauty of her.  
  
Sophie's reed-slender body was cloaked in pale gray, a dress that moved smoothly around her ankles, embroidered in tiny stitches like that of fairies', depicting a graceful water lily in all its many-hued splendor, identical to the blossom she had tucked behind her ear. It contrasted beautifully with her cinnamon hair that flowed and rippled about her, brushing her knees and curves just so until she seemed almost supernaturally fragile. Shy femininity radiated from her in a cloud of sweetness. Suboshi found himself charmed.  
  
"Ah, welcome, Sophie." He smiled shamelessly. "Have a seat." Shunkaku paced to the table for two he had reserved, then, with a courtly bow, pulled out her chair for her.  
  
Sophie blushed with pleasure. "Oh, Suboshi, you're so very kind," she whispered, keeping her amber-gold eyes locked onto his violet-blue ones.  
  
It was going to be a long night.  
  
The vacation passed far too swiftly, the moments numbered like sand in a glass, and Suboshi and Sophie grew close. It was soon apparent that the love would bloom, given time and care, like the most fragile of white roses. It was one of a precious few, he was sure; Suboshi couldn't let Sophie out of his sight.  
  
The sun never rose on the last day. Rain fell heavily, making the docking treacherous. It was almost as though the skies mourned the end of the laughter they had shared. They had spent their last night together, sharing secrets and kisses like there would never be another time.  
  
The call came quickly, that the ship had docked successfully and that there would be one hour to inspection.  
  
Suboshi was dressing silently, and Sophie was in her own berth, cleaning up and packing. There was a strange connection of solemnity between the two, connecting them through the space of the corridor, spanning the distance between the two hearts with an inexorable tug. What little clothing Shunkaku had was packed, and he was dressed to fit his mood: dark, stern colors. His skin had been tanned golden, and his hair bleached by the sun to smooth white-blonde silk.  
  
He looked down at the thin sketchbook that was rested atop his luggage forlornly, black leather against white canvas. Embossed in gold ink so very carefully was his name, Shunkaku Wilding, in her ultimately feminine handwriting, all loops and flowery flourishes, reminding him of spring.  
  
When he heard the knock at the door, he cursed softly, closing his eyes. Not now. He couldn't say goodbye, it hurt too badly. "Come in," he responded, his voice just above a whisper, sounding like the seabreezes that had surrounded their idealistic love for the past two weeks, guarding it. Now there were no more moments left to spend in the sun, the breezes had fallen, and there was hard, driving rain in their place.  
  
Sophie stepped in slowly, her face lowered. "I only came... came to say..." She stopped, strengthening her will, steeling her heart for the rush of sadness she knew would come with the word. "To say goodbye, Shunkaku." Her lips trembled, and her lashes fluttered like birds' wings. Sophie was the very picture of feminine distress, beautiful even in her sadness.  
  
Damned if he hadn't been right, but that was something he'd prayed he was so very wrong about. Suboshi swallowed the painful lump of unshed tears as best he could, but when he spoke his voice was husky and rough. "They say, Sophie, that if you love something, let it go, and if it comes back, then it's meant to be. Do you believe that?" He stayed facing away, so that she couldn't see the tears gathering in his eyes. He didn't want her delicate heart broken.  
  
"I do... oh, with all of my heart," she whispered fervently, wringing her hands as she gazed fretfully down at the floor. "Shunkaku..." Her heart was weeping, more loudly than his own, and Suboshi thought he could hear it. It ripped vicious wounds into his own.  
  
He turned to her, just as his tears chose to spill over. "I love you, Sophie. If we're meant to be together, then we will be. If you get there before I do..." he whispered, obstinately wiping his cheeks, "then don't give up... I'll remember you always... and if we never find each other again, then the memories will fade, and in time you'll find another. You're far too beautiful to wait all your life on me. I'm not so special, after all." Suboshi cupped her chin, gazing into those teary washed-gold eyes longingly. "It's goodbye, Sophie."  
  
Then he released her and silently gathered his bags, walking off into the rain. There were no more words to be said between the two of them.  
  
"Uncle, can we go to the dock?" the sweet feminine voice came, pleading. Shunkaku looked down at the little girl that clung to his hand, and the tall, strong boy that looked like a miniature Amiboshi that wore an expression of indifference, but it was visible in his eyes that he agreed with his little sister vehemently.  
  
"I don't see why not," he answered, flashing a half-grin. Little Jess, who was named after her grandmama, cheered, and Julian gave a slow laugh that made Suboshi proud. The little boy was exactly the sort he'd have wished for. He was nearly thirty-five now, and he looked, like his brother, very much the professor with sleek wire-rimmed glasses and a heartbreaking smile.  
  
Suboshi's smile was sad and poignant, owing to years of loneliness. He was only here this summer to be with his niece and nephew, his brother and his sister-in-law. They often offered him a place with them, but he couldn't stand to impose on his twin's eternal kindness. He never stayed in one place for long. He was questing for something, but had long since forgotten what it was, washed away in the endless stream of faces. Silver threads had begun gathering at his temples, and his eyes had faded and purified into the sweetest of blue-violet, a mixture of mist and the stormy New England sea. His hair had lengthened, brushing like spun satin against his long, slim throat, and had darkened slightly into a rich pale brown, with warm highlights of brilliant gold.  
  
His emotions had stayed the same, though. He was still a volatile, instinctive man, who ran off of adrenaline and lived to be his own person, to rebel against authority and smoothly run his own life in his own way.  
  
The walk to the dock was a short one, and they arrived quickly, watching the aerobatics of the gulls and terns that dove for fish and then came back up, a silvery-scaled creature clutched in their beaks, defending their prey. The cries were a music to Suboshi's ears. They sounded as lonely as his heart felt. In the night he dreamt of a smiling maiden with streaming hair the color of a stained-glass sunset, with eyes that sparkled shy femininity the color of pale molten gold, with a slender body that was untouched by man or nature. Most of all he remembered the sad parting, but only in the dreams that plagued him and kept him solemn and unsmiling.  
  
He had found his calling not long after the cruise. He wrote, now, books of poetry that sold like cakes off the shelves. Every once was dedicated to Sophie, the girl he knew little about. Suboshi's readers loved to speculate about who Sophie was. Was she a tall, slim model with glamorous looks? Was she a laughing, plump, motherly woman with sparkling blue eyes? Was she his relative? Always the dedication read, 'To Sophie, with the hope that tomorrow will always bring you home.'  
  
Shunkaku sighed. Jess and Julian sat on the end of the dock, swinging their bare feet over the clear blue water, tossing bread to the gulls that swooped and dove acrobatically for it. True, he had lived the family life vicariously through his twin, but he wanted more. He wanted to know if love was real, was true and possible, for him to live. It was so lonely during the balmy Appalachian nights that often he lay in bed and stared out the window at the moon, weeping filling his heart.  
  
His eye caught suddenly upon a glint of soft red-gold lifting and stirring in the salt-scented breeze. He looked toward it, then moaned softly. He wanted so desperately to believe what he saw.  
  
The slender body was unchanged, but draped in white, softly blowing around a figure that was by no means voluptuous, but fragile and beautiful, more so than any angel. Her cinnamon-and-cream hair had been cut short, so that the top of it feathered sweetly against her forehead and brushed the tips of her ears, and tender fluffs trailed down her slender neck like a cardinal's feather. Her fragile face held sadness, her full lips placed in a small, soft smile, just barely curved. In one hand she clutched a penciled drawing, and she spoke his name in a heavenly gentle voice, and he read the fidelity of a dove within it. "You said, Shunkaku, that if you love something, let it go... and if it comes back again, then it's meant to be," she said, her voice changed from so long ago. It had been seven years, and in that time, a great weight of sadness had fallen onto her. "So... is it meant to be yet?" Sophie's eyes were so very soft, and her slender body so very inviting.  
  
Suboshi made a soft sound, deep in his throat, a sound of thunder rumbling in the far distant mountains, an elemental sound of hope. He glanced toward his niece and nephew, who were occupied for the moment. "Oh, yes. Seven years is a long time to wait, Sophie, so long." He never realized he was moving until he found the slim, lithe body pressed against his own, and he captured her in a kiss, drawing her even closer until her soft curves conformed against his granite strength, until she trembled.  
  
He forced himself to pull away. "We won't be apart again. Ever."  
  
Sophie's eyes brightened brilliantly. She forced herself out at arm's length, turning her back against his chest while gazing at the slip of parchment she held in her hand. It contained a fresh picture of him, the lead still soft and new and richly black against the smooth whiteness, defining his expression. "We'll always be together." She released the sheet, and the wind caught it. It hovered like some oversized petal for a moment, then flew out to sea in wild loops and dives to be devoured by the waves.  
  
Joy rose in Suboshi, wild and sweet as the sea that had taken on his image so readily, and he buried his face in the cropped hair that smelled of honey. "Let's bring my niece and nephew home, so we can catch up. We've lost so much time," he whispered passionately into her ear, and proceeded to kiss her silly again.  
  
  
  
How handsome a couple, observed Jessie. A rich contralto chuckle escaped her. She could rest now, but why should she? After all, Sophie's twins would need supervision --  
  
"Come along, love," came the soft, laughing response. "You've interfered enough! Little minx!" His eyes were brilliantly blue-violet, and his hair was the softest fluff of baby-fine gold imaginable. "Julian will play matchmaker to his cousins. You don't need to." His arms, encircling her, pulled her into the sweetest embrace possible. "The stakes for love were laid, and the odds were favorable. You won't see them for a long time." He nuzzled her lips softly.  
  
"Oh, yes, I know." She laid against the fifteen-year-old Amiboshi's chest, purring softly as she entwined her fingers in his. "In the meantime, we have all the time in the world to be together, alone."  
  
A slow smile spread across Amiboshi's face. "Yes. Now pay attention, love, I'll only show you this once." He kissed her gently, lingering long to explore.  
  
Her world had come full-circle. Jessie was satisfied completely.  
  
Tomorrow's story is neverending, circling on over the horizons like the brushing of feathers in the hot desert winds, holding hope and promise on the waves in the oasis where Destiny awaits her lover.  
  
Whoever said love never runs smooth? 


End file.
